Dawning
by fagur fiskur
Summary: It's morning in the bunker and Dean and Cas wake up side by side. On another morning, in another reality, Dean wakes up alone. WARNING: Major character death.


**A/N:** This is a little writing experiment. It's maybe a little rough and awkwardly worded in places, but there is a reason for that beyond me being a crappy writer. Stick around for the end notes for an explanation. Or maybe you'll have figured out my gimmick before then, who knows.

* * *

His eyes are closed, defending him from the day ahead he hopes will never come. He's too comfortable, cocooned in a blanket of darkness, surrounded by quiet. He plans on staying here for as long as he can, until his bladder or his stomach forces him to leave his bed. He keeps his eyes closed, for now.

Dean tugs out one of his hands from where it rests underneath his pillow and begins reaching out, seeking the warmth he hopes is there. In his more vulnerable moments, he can sometimes fool himself into thinking Cas may have bolted sometime in the night. Despite himself, Dean breathes easier once his hand finds that the other side of the bed isn't empty. Isn't cold. Cas is still there, just as promised.

Dean knows he's stupid for worrying but he also knows that he likely always will, no matter how much time passes. He's been left behind one too many times and no amount of hope and reassurance can ever chase away his abandonment issues. But it's fine. Dean may be damaged, but he's not broken.

There are no windows in Dean's bedroom but judging by his internal clock, the sunrise isn't too far off. Some mornings, this means that Dean's about to get dragged out by Cas, but the man seems content to sleep in right now. Which is good. The merits of sleeping any more than is absolutely physically necessary are mostly lost on Cas, who prefers to indulge his hedonism in other ways (not that Dean's complaining). So many things to experience, Cas will argue, and you people (meaning Dean and, on his lazier days, Kevin) choose to stay unconscious.

It probably doesn't help that Cas has frequent nightmares. Too many times has Dean been woken by flailing or shouting or getting kicked in the face. But Cas has to put up with his share of unpleasant wake-up calls from Dean, and he never complains, so Dean doesn't either. Seems like it would be kind of a douchebag move.

Right now, though, Cas is calm. He doesn't stir when Dean lays his hand on his chest, but he sighs and he sounds so content. That little sigh fills Dean with such fierce longing, it almost takes his breath away. It always takes him by surprise how deeply Cas affects him. The world keeps almost ending and Dean doesn't even care, probably wouldn't even notice that it had stopped spinning, as long as he gets to have Cas by his side through it, warm and solid and finally all there.

There's pressure building in Dean's chest and when he can't ignore it any longer, he opens his eyes. His vision is hazy for a bit but it clears and his heart catches when he sees Cas, dead to the world. For one mad moment, he thinks he might actually be dead (because Dean is always waiting for the other shoe to drop), but then Cas snorts in his sleep and Dean relaxes.

Cas is clearly just about to wake, because he's stirring now and his eyes are rolling a bit underneath his eyelids. He opens them and Dean sees a flicker of blue before he closes them again. Dean moves closer, tucks his legs alongside Castiel's. He buries his nose in Cas' neck and presses his lips against his shoulder. Cas shudders at that but it's not enough to wake him completely.

"Cas?" Dean whispers. The last of his haziness is gone by now, replaced by an eager need to touch. But it's no fun if Cas can't feel it. "You awake?"

"No," Cas grunts, nearly unintelligible.

Dean laughs, before kissing Cas's shoulder again. "Then you're missing out. Thought you didn't like to sleep in."

"I am fairly certain it is not yet morning," Cas grumbles. Dean lifts his head to see Cas opening his eyes again, looking none too happy. His eyelids flutter, like he can barely blink, let alone keep his eyes open.

"You can sleep," Dean allows, bending his head and licking at that spot just beneath Castiel's jaw that drives him crazy. He can see the effect it has on Cas, even when he is half-asleep. "If you want."

Cas frowns and then he's rolling over, pinning Dean to the bed with his dead weight. "I should," he mutters. "I should sleep and let you tend to your needs alone."

"But you won't," Dean says smugly. Against his better judgment, Dean reaches up and plants a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on Cas, who returns it sleepily.

The kiss ends abruptly because ew, morning breath, and Cas just kind of collapses on top of Dean, out of breath.

"Dude, seriously?"

But it's no use; that kiss must have taken all of Castiel's energy because the bastard is asleep again. Dean sighs and rolls him back to his side of the bed. He keeps his legs tangled with Castiel's, though, and keeps his hand to rest on his chest. The comforter has nearly fallen to the floor and the sheet is tangled underneath them, but although Dean is now wide-awake, he can't find it in him to move to fix either. There's no incentive to do so when Castiel's entire upper body is exposed, radiating warmth.

Dean will probably get up in a half hour or so, go to the kitchen where there are bacon and eggs to be cooked and coffee to be poured. When Cas finally drags his ass out of bed, Dean can greet him with a hot cup of coffee and some scrambled eggs because Dean's eggs always turn out scrambled even if they're meant to be sunny side up.

But there's no rush. Right now, Dean is content to lay there with his palm on Castiel's chest, feeling his heartbeat strumming beneath his fingertips.

Dean closes his eyes again.

* * *

His eyes are closed, defending him from the day ahead he hopes will never come. As long as he keeps his eyes closed, his hands from reaching out, he can fool himself into thinking the other side of the bed isn't empty. Isn't cold.

But time passes and no amount of hope can chase away the sunrise. Dean's lost so many people (too many) but it always takes him by surprise how the world keeps spinning.

There's pressure building in Dean's chest and when he can't ignore it any longer, he opens his eyes. His heart catches when, for one mad moment, he sees a flicker of blue. But it's gone before he can blink and he is.

Alone.

Against his better judgment, Dean reaches out his hand to rest on the sheet. There's no warmth there to greet him, no heartbeat strumming beneath his fingertips.

Dean closes his eyes again.

* * *

**A/N: **As previously stated, this is the result of a little writing experiment I thought of and wanted to try out. Basically, I wrote this chapter and then wrote the first chapter, built around it. I kept some sentences whole and others I had to split up in order to change Dean alone in his bed, grieving, to Dean and Cas, waking up side by side. Expect more stuff like this from me in the future, because this was a lot of fun. Hopefully I'll get smoother at it with time.


End file.
